The next hour was very frantic, painful at times, yet, thankfully, very productive.
I called Rose, not because misery loves company, but rather to share our predicament and discuss how to get back on plane. I quickly realized she needed her own time to process and vent since she was just hearing it, and put my “Guy Problem Solving Mode” in neutral. That, er, red light was short, though; with the noon hour approaching I wanted to get a call into Datz before folks went to lunch.
We agreed that I could make decisions on the fly where reasonable. If Datz would take us the main risk was possibly losing money. We’d have two costs floating in the air for the same service (the home study), and if by some strange chance Frank Adoption got their act together in the next several weeks and could finish significantly ahead of Datz we’d need to break from Datz…and their fee probably wouldn’t be returned. Knowing what we knew, the probability of that scenario occurring was low.
Before contacting Datz, however, we really needed to make sure this move was kosher with AGCI. The doors were just opening up on the left coast and fortunately Kate was available. After getting briefed she brought Chance, the Social Services Director, into the conversation. Within minutes it was clear they would not bless one particular path. I noticed, however, that neither Kate nor Chance were not saying “no” to a switch of home study agencies and ran with that. It nagged at me there was no previous working relationship with Datz, yet with Datz showing big and reputable on their website it seemed things would work out. And it was (about) time to find out.
Switching ears from Portland, Oregon to Vienna, VA…Matt picked up in the Datz office and I started telling and selling right away: here’s who Rose and I are, and here’s our big sob story, can you help? One can only imagine how it sounded on the other end. Probably not very composed, that is sure.
Folks working in the adoption arena know the cause they are involved in and almost by default they are so darn nice. Matt was that and then some, demonstrating customer service which, if bottled, would solve the ills of many organizations. Listening to his voice I probably had him by 15 years; indeed that voice kept the call calm, and the man behind it was efficient – and effective. Datz has a gem in Matt. Rose and I had a real life angel.
On the surface, Matt felt like we were in good shape. He put me on hold to check out a few things, and then came right back. Get this – with minor exceptions, they’d accept all of our documents! We did need our well water inspected; and our letters of recommendation needed to be re-done since the original ones were not required to be notarized (but they only needed three, not four). That was it!
Next we talked about the timeframe. Datz offered an expedited process which cost more, and with all the lost time we needed to go for it (I had half a thought to go back to Frank Adoption and try to get reimbursed for the extra money; it was a time, though to count our blessings.). Matt needed some time to review the schedule social workers in our area, but was confident we could get started toward the end of the following week. He’d let me know by the next day. In the meantime, we needed to FedEx a signed Home Study Agreement, along with the check.
I called my lovely bride with the update, one that was much better than just thirty minutes prior! Like Jairus’ daughter, we were resurrected (Mk 5)! Christ had heard the tumult and wailing, and He came.
And just after hanging up with Rose, Matt called back. “Someone is looking out for you. We have a social worker for you, and he may be available tomorrow. Dean is expecting a call from you.” Get out! No cajoling was necessary.
Dean was in fact Dr. Kirschner, who has a practice offering a variety of services related to bettering the individual as well as the family, and this includes home studies. During our short talk he relayed Matt had shared we were in a spot and he was here to help. Flipping through his schedule he said we could come in next Thursday.
Thursday? I was fresh off the call with Matt and his exciting expectation was etched in my mind. What was a boy to do? “Okay, we can make next Thursday, thank you very much. When I was on the phone with Matt he mentioned you were available tomorrow – is that still possible, or did he misunderstand?” We discovered the man works yeoman’s hours: Rose and I were set to meet at his office seven o’clock the next morning! Beggars can’t be choosers, but the eager can ask.
Someone needed to stay with Julia, Ben, and Elizabeth while we met with the good doctor, so at the pre-dawn time of six-twenty the next day, Rose’s sister Betty knocked on the door. Two of Rose’s sisters are local to us, and our three families have regular opportunities to bless each other, and babysitting is one way.
Rose and I left Lawndale Road in separate cars, as I’d need to go to work after the meeting. It was still dark as we traveled the back roads through the horse country part of Maryland. There are enough twist and turns in the 20-minute route that my mind was surprisingly focused on driving; this was good, since I was knackered from staying up well past two o’clock completing 11 page biography forms for both of us in preparation for the visit.
Our cars crossed over I-83, made a right on York Road, and within modest miles turned into the office parking spaces safely. For the first time ever, or maybe just in a while, we had five minutes to spare. If you are, by the way, keeping track of time it had been one week since we had our first home visit with Frank Adoption, and just less than 20 hours from calling Datz.
And here we were nervous again, with no kids available to distract and lighten the moment. But up the steps we went, through the unlocked door, and into the waiting room. Have no fear my dear, a smiling face greeted us – Dr. Kirschner shook our hands and took us back into his office.
His approach was one of warmth and education. The very first thing he told us to do was calm down. An adoptive parent of two, he had sympathy for our seat – hey, drop the need to be perfect. Then, the words he spoke next resonated into our bodies: “Your child will come home.”
To date we had never heard that before. Oh how difficult it was to sort through those five words while sitting in that chair. I was prepared to tell the doctor my birth date and where I worked, not contemplate a birth never to be known, and why I worked. They were personal. They underscored the essence of our actions. They were of love.
Less than a month later I would refer to Dr. Kirschner as one of the more dynamic individuals I had ever met in my life; for he was, and it was his endless energy and passionate belief that “every child deserves a safe, healthy loving home” which pushed us through the gate. But that’s getting ahead a bit.
During the remaining fifty minutes we were constructively challenged. I’m sure Dr. Kirschner saw a woman dedicated to loving children, in powerful way. In addition to gathering data for a report, he served us well by momentarily moving us into a relationship with a little child from China whom we did not know. I will leave the specifics of his approach confidential, if not a mystery.
We walked back down the steps and got in our cars. Rose backtracked through the road that splits farms, and I slowly wrapped around the now-busy Baltimore beltway. There wasn’t much time to decompress: the doctor would be at our home the next morning.
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